


there is just one thing i need

by notquiteaghost



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, holidays fluff, literally just sappy bickering that's all this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:46:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notquiteaghost/pseuds/notquiteaghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Technically, Mark and Eduardo don't celebrate Christmas. But they don't really celebrate Hanukkah either, to be honest. They celebrate, sure, but at some point all of the religious ties fell away until they were left with the gift-giving and the time off work and not really much else.</p>
<p>Not that that's a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there is just one thing i need

**Author's Note:**

> title is, of course, from 'all i want for christmas is you'.
> 
> this is a christmas present for [mj](http://chadara.tumblr.com) & [robyn](http://cosett.es), because they are both really hella amazing & thus deserve nice things.

Technically, Mark and Eduardo don't celebrate Christmas. But they don't really celebrate Hanukkah either, to be honest. They celebrate, sure, but at some point all of the religious ties fell away until they were left with the gift-giving and the time off work and not really much else.

Not that that's a bad thing.

"Hey, sleepyhead." Eduardo says, smiling fondly as Mark blinks slowly awake. Eduardo's only been awake twenty minutes or so, and he's yet to get up, because the bed is warm and Mark is very cuddly when he's asleep and they're both overdue for a lie-in.

"Morning." Mark replies. "Time s'it?"

"Ten past eleven."

Mark thinks for a few seconds, then says, decisively, "Not getting up before twelve."

Eduardo huffs a laugh. "Sure, baby. Whatever you want."

"Don't call me baby."

"But baby--"

"Wardo."

"Baby, please--"

" _Wardo_."

"I'm sorry, baby, I just can't--"

Eduardo is cut off abruptly by Mark leaning over and pressing their lips together, because words are apparently too much effort, or something. Mark's kinda obnoxiously lazy in the mornings. 

Mark tastes like sleep and he hums happily when Eduardo pulls him closer and it's not a very successful kiss, because it's hard to kiss someone who can't stop smiling. 

Eduardo pulls back after a while to tell Mark, incredibly seriously, "You're a dork."

"You're one to talk." Mark replies, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey--"

"Don't even start, Wardo, you own more Christmas sweaters than I own sweaters."

Eduardo huffs but lets Mark win, kissing him again instead of arguing. Kissing is, after all, much preferable to arguing, even fond joking arguing. Kissing is preferable to pretty much everything, really. Especially kissing Mark.

...Okay, yeah, Eduardo's a dork. Ah well. Mark loves him anyway.

\---

"We should probably get up soon."

Mark looks away from his tablet. He's led lengthways across the bed, head in Eduardo's lap, and Eduardo's running his fingers through Mark's hair absentmindedly as he checks his emails. "Do we have to?"

"Well, we need to eat." Eduardo points out. "We still have a load of that soup you like so much. And all those mince pies. And, God, all that chocolate. We're gonna be eating chocolate for months at this rate."

"You make a very good point." Mark sets his tablet aside and stretches, cat-like. Mark is basically a cat; Eduardo scratches lightly at his scalp and he almost starts purring.

“That we’re gonna be eating chocolate for months?”

Mark shoves at him weakly. “That we need to eat.”

Eduardo shoves back, just a little bit. Mark retaliates by rolling off the bed and taking the comforter with him, because Mark is a child.

“I thought you didn’t want to get up.”

“You drove me to this!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, baby.”

“Oh my god, why did I ever marry you, you’re a terrible human being.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night.”

Mark is grinning, Eduardo can tell - sure, he can’t see his face, or actually any part of him at all, but he just knows, okay? His Mark senses are tingling - even as he stands up and stalks out the room. He leaves the comforter behind, so he doesn’t look that ridiculous, but he still looks pretty ridiculous. His bedhead is truly a thing to behold.

After a second, Eduardo gets up and follows him, though he takes the time to pull on a hoodie (probably Mark’s, judging by the comfortingly familiar smell) because it’s December and walking around in only a pair of boxers isn’t as fun as Mark makes it look. 

He finds Mark in the kitchen, the cats fussing over him impatiently.

“Alright, alright, Jesus, patience is a virtue, did no one ever tell you that?” Mark asks the cats. He has this habit of talking to them like they’re going to talk back, which is probably far more endearing than it should be.

“Are you criticising my parenting skills?”

“Yes.” Mark says, without turning round. “You’re a terrible father, you’ve raised three tearaways-- Mikey, get out of there, for God’s sake, please stop trying to ingest bleach--” He cuts himself off as he bends down and rescues Mikey (short for Microsoft, because Dustin suggested it as a joke and then it just stuck, somehow) from inside the cupboard.

“Has your mother called yet?”

“Nope, but yours has. Twice.”

“She’s not still annoyed that we wouldn’t come stay, is she?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the messages. She’s your mother, you deal with her.”

Eduardo huffs a laugh. “She likes you better.”

“Why would she like me better? My manners are terrible and I never remember her birthday.”

“She thinks you’re cute.”

Mark wrinkles his nose. Eduardo laughs again and curls his arms around Mark’s waist, pressing a kiss just below his ear.

“Also, you’re richer than me.”

“Well, she has a point there.”

“Mmm. And we all know I only married you for your money.”

“You gold-digging scoundrel.” Mark agrees, his voice slightly strained, probably because of the way Eduardo is kissing along the line of his jaw.

Eduardo doesn’t reply, distracted by the taste of Mark’s skin, and conversation falls by the wayside as they turn their focus to more important things.

Then Nico Kitten jumps onto the counter and lets out a loud, pitiful meow.

They break apart reluctantly. “I’ll feed them.” Mark says, making shooing motions with his hands. “You go call your mother.”

“Alright, alright.” Eduardo says, darting back in to press one last kiss to Mark’s cheek. “Love you!”

Mark rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I love you too.”

\---

The Saverin-Zuckerberg Christmas tradition goes something like this:

Lay around in bed until at least one in the afternoon. Get up, feed the cats, call Eduardo’s parents. Heat up leftovers (either Thanksgiving or Hanukah, depending on what’s in the fridge). Sit on the couch (read: cuddle on the couch) and watch whatever’s in their Netflix queue. Call Mark’s parents. Order takeout. Exchange presents. Skype with Dustin and Chris. Resume cuddling on the couch. Go to bed sometime after midnight.

It’s not exactly fancy, or anything like Christmas in the movies, but it suits them. It’s taken them a few years, but now they’ve gotten it down to an art. 

Because, sure, they love their parents, but not enough to actually go and visit. Eduardo’s not sure he loves anyone that much (except maybe Mark, but that goes without saying. Also, he lives with Mark). And neither of them’s ever been that much of a cook. Mark’s pretty amazing in the kitchen - when he can be bothered, which is almost never. And the less said about Eduardo’s cooking, the better. 

Dustin always acts scandalised, tells them they’re not embracing the true spirit of Christmas (Dustin watched far too many cheesy movies as a child), and then Mark threatens to dock his salary and Dustin threatens to sue and within minutes they’ve degenerated to ‘I know you are, but what am I?’, leaving Chris and Eduardo to roll their eyes and sigh long-sufferingly.

Which is, to be honest, a Christmas tradition all in itself.

"Wanna watch Polar Express?"

"No."

"Aww, come on, don't be like that. Please?"

Mark levels Eduardo a look. "No, Wardo. I don't want to watch Polar Express."

"But it's a great film! It's festive and cheery and cute!"

"It's aimed at children."

"You just don't like it because it makes you cry."

"Shut up." Mark retorts, eloquently. "I have nothing against it, I just don't want to spend valuable time watching a kid's film."

Eduardo rolls his eyes. "'Valuable time'? It's the holidays, Mark, you're expected to waste hours watching cheesy movies. There might even be laws about it."

"I don't care."

"Grinch."

"We're not watching that either."

Eduardo throws a cushion at him.

"What was that film Dustin was going on about? The one with the giant robots?"

"That could describe about eighty percent of the films Dustin talks about. You're gonna need to be a little more specific."

Sitting down on the couch next to Eduardo, Mark grabs the remote and shrugs as he says, "I don't know, Pacific something?"

"Pacific Rim?"

"Yeah, that."

"So you'll watch a movie about giant robots punching giant aliens," Eduardo says, "but you won't watch a movie about the true meaning of Christmas?"

"May I remind you that we're Jewish?"

"Oh my God, fine, we'll watch Pacific whatever." Eduardo snatches the remote back and pulls up Netflix, going for 'annoyed' but probably mostly achieving 'fond', judging by the way Mark hums happily and curls around him. Like a cat.

Eduardo sighs, faux put-upon, and pulls Mark even closer. If they're going to cuddle, then they're going to cuddle. There's no point half-assing it.

\---

"I love you."

Eduardo blinks, surprised.

He's washing out the takeout containers -- small plastic tubs come in handy, okay, you can never have too many -- and humming along to the radio absentmindedly. Mark is leaning in the doorway, apparently, watching Eduardo like a true creeper.

"I love you too." Eduardo says. Mark grins.

"Yeah." He nods at the takeout containers. "That can wait till tomorrow, right?"

"Well, really it'd--"

"By which I mean, I think you should come to bed."

"--Oh. Right. Yeah."

Mark's grin widens. "I love you," he repeats, probably for no reason other than he knows Eduardo likes to hear him say it, "And you should come to bed. Now."

Eduardo turns, drying his hands and crossing the room and pausing briefly in the doorway to push Mark up against the doorframe and kiss him until he groans. Because heck yeah, Mark loves him. He loves Mark and Mark loves him and they spend their holidays bickering and calling each other's parents and it's _amazing_.

And then they go to bed.

It's a pretty damn amazing end to a pretty damn amazing day, if Eduardo's being honest.

**Author's Note:**

> i am [here](http://gideonreader.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
